


A Moment to Be Real

by fairbreeze



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:18:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairbreeze/pseuds/fairbreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd spent so long being stronger than she'd felt inside, to be as strong as Rude and Reno, to deserve to stand here, next to the President.  Well... maybe not quite *here*, next to the President...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment to Be Real

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt _Rufus/Elena: sleeping with the boss-- as long as the office gossip didn't catch up, who cared?_ over on the IJ version of areyougame.
> 
> This was an experiment in how far I could take these characters from their typical fanon interpretation (which I generally agree with, mind you) while still keeping them well within canon.

\---   

    It was never, ever a good thing to get a call to come into Rufus Shinra's office unexpectedly.

    It was even less of a good thing to get called in alone.

    Even in the ruins of Midgar, Rufus still called the tallest place in the city his home-- had decked it out with similar items, if not splendor, to his old office and rooms, even with all the twisted metal and broken glass just a few feet away.  Elena had always been surprised that the citizens let him have it.  She'd been expecting there to be more fight, more independent groups, more people remembering that it had been Shinra who had done this to them to begin with.  She supposed she had underestimated people's need to just get on with their lives and leave all the bureaucracy that let them do that to someone else.   
  
    That someone was standing at the edge of the half destroyed building, looking out over the remains of his legacy.  Elena had grown so used to walking silently at this point that she had to deliberately walk louder so that he would know she was here.  She'd seen him fight on a number of occasions and had to wonder why on earth he needed the Turks.  Perhaps it was just simply that then there were more of them.  Then there was more than just him.

    She came up beside him, arms behind her back, looking out.  All of this, all of this had happened, and somehow she still felt like the new girl, like all of the others still thought that she was separate, different, less experienced.  She still felt it, even though she felt herself hardening a little inside every day.  Oddly, though, today, she didn't feel all that nervous, standing beside her boss.  The one time she had every right to be afraid, called up here for who knew what reason, and she wasn't.  She was curious, though, and so she jumped just a little bit when Rufus finally spoke,

    "Elena.  Look out there.  What do you see?"  She looked, but it just looked like the remains of Midgar, to her.  She had no idea what kind of an answer he wanted, knew that it might be the difference between everything being alright and whatever horrible reason he'd called her here.  God, even with all that was going on, had she done something to get fired?  She hoped not, couldn't think of anything...

    "I... don't know what I should see, sir," if you didn't know the right answer, it was often best to go with the honest one.  Perhaps the question had actually been rhetorical, because he didn't seem to mind, 

    "I see what's rightfully mine.  A city in ruins, a group of people who've been taught to hate power and the people with it.  A people who live in fear," he shook his head, "I have exactly what I wanted," Elena looked over at him, sharply.  The words were mostly typical of him, but the tone was anything but.  He looked as impassive as ever, staring out over the city, but the words had been bitter, a sort of self-loathing behind them that she wasn't sure she'd ever thought Rufus could possess.

    "S-Sir?" As soon as she spoke, he let out a breath, shoulders and head slumping forward.  The motion tipped him forward just slightly and for a horrible, horrible moment she thought that she'd been called here to bear witness to his suicide.  She felt like she was going to be sick. And then she realized what he was really doing and she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.  Why her?  Why here?  Why now?

    "What legacy have I left?  What is left of what was mine, when I can't even save my own city?  When I have to rely on a group of people who once wanted to kill me to keep it safe.  They are heroes, and this, this is all that's left for me," he gestured up at the city, his eyes bright, but angry, and leave it Rufus to be angry when he's falling apart a little.  But why was she being allowed to see this?  What could    
_she_   
possibly do?  Surely anyone would have been better than her...

    "You have us," she said, after a moment, "We're still loyal to you and always will be," usually, she would feel weird about speaking for the others like this, but it's always been easy to see that they feel the same.  They're loyal to him and they're loyal to one another.  It's not quite like having friends, or lovers, but it's close.  Rufus turned and looked at her, instead of the skyline, and smiled.  It was a small smile, heavy as his shoulders, but it was there, and it was for her.  Perhaps she was actually going to be the one that fell off the building, but in her case, it would have been in shock.

    Really, she ought to have better reflexes, but when his arms folded around her, she barely even knew he'd crossed the distance,

    "Sir, I--"

    "Elena..." his tone was completely indecipherable, but his arms tightened around her for a moment in what felt like warning.  So she just relaxed and wound her arms around his waist, leaning into his chest just enough that he could lean against her a bit, and they wouldn't overbalance.  It wasn't particularly romantic, it felt more like holding a grieving friend, though Rufus was mostly composed, externally at least.  But she could feel her cheeks heat a little bit anyway.  How long had it been since someone had held her?  He was strong, too-- she could feel the muscles in his arms as he held onto her, and attractive and powerful.  And she was pretty sure some other people thought the same of her and she might not be anything near Rufus' equal, but she would sure as hell be able to hold her on any kind of physical comparison.  And yet... there was something primal about the feel of a good strong man's arms around her, particularly one that she'd already take a bullet for... and she really, really shouldn't be thinking like this.  He just wanted some comfort, and she was flattered beyond words that he'd pick her for that, but that was all that was.

    She'd just about convinced herself of that when he kissed her.

    He'd tilted her chin up, first, and she should have seen it coming but she was so convinced of the words in her own head that she didn't until his lips were warm against hers.  And she had no idea what she thought Rufus would kiss like-- she thought about Tseng kissing her, had thought Reno was going to once and had spent some time thinking about what she would have done, but fantasizing about the President just wasn't something that she'd ever felt right doing-- but it wasn't this, slow and gentle and almost sweet.  Now that she did think about it, she would have said that he'd be aggressive, maybe didn't even kiss at all.  She definitely didn't imagine it would be this lingering thing that seemed designed to melt her, starting at her knees.  When he pulled back, finally, she found herself gasping for air,

    "Sir--"

    "Rufus," he said simply, laying a finger against her lips and she nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at it, her brain still trying to catch up to the 'hey, this is actually happening' part.

    "What?"

    "Not 'sir'.  Not now..." She started to stammer out a protest, but then he kissed her again and whatever she was going to say was lost, muffled in the press of lips and, oh god, tongue.  She moved her arms from his waist up around his neck without thinking about it.  It hadn't been so long that she'd completely forgotten how this went, how it was better with her stretched up just a little on her toes, heels still on the floor, but no weight on them, but it had been long enough that she'd forgotten how good it really was.  And she was supposed to be comforting him wasn't she?  But it felt so good, for once, to not have to prove herself.  She'd already proven herself enough if she was here, hadn't she?  She was already trusted.  Maybe trusted more than the others.  She'd spent so long being stronger than she'd felt inside, to be as strong as Rude and Reno, to deserve to stand here, next to the President.

    Well... maybe not quite    
_here_   
, next to the President...

    And wow could he kiss, achingly slow and absolutely perfect, like the inside of her mouth was a fine wine to be savored, and she'd feel embarrassed at the noise that thought drew out of her, except that it made him suddenly tighten his grip on her, pull her flush against him.  Hip to hip and he was hard already, hard for her, and she almost stumbled when he turned her, started to walk her backwards away from the edge of the building,

    "Elena..." she wondered how many different ways he could say her name, this one growled low, into the skin of her neck, while he tried to keep one arm around her and pull the knot out of her tie with the other.  The thin little bit of fabric slithered to the floor and he had the first three buttons of her shirt undone before the back of her knees hit the couch.  She had enough sense of balance to keep from falling onto it, but only by clinging just a bit to Rufus' lapels.  And for some reason, that just made him growl again and grab her head for another kiss, this one less slow and more possessive.  

    She had to hold on, suddenly, as he bent forward, dipping her backwards as though daring her to lose her balance and fall.  Or maybe just forcing her, in the end, to rely on him to hold her up.  It was easier when she stopped worrying about her balance and just trusted him to hold her, harder to breathe like this and she had to take a deep breath when he broke the kiss, kissed down her neck and kept going until his lips were over her heart.

    "Mine," it was so soft, she barely thought she heard it, and she didn't really have time to process it anyway because he let go of her, twisted with her to land mostly on top of her on the couch.  Even then, the suddenness, the weight, she realized he'd cupped the back of her head as she went down, and his own landing was mostly taken on his knees.  Laughter bubbled up inside her before she could help it, even with him tugging her shirt out of her pants and getting the rest of the buttons undone.  

    "Rufus," she tried out, sitting up on her elbows to watch him, the name feeling odd in her mouth, even stranger riding the breath of laughter, and his head snapped up, his expression unreadable.  She fought the urge to flinch, sure that she'd done something wrong.  And then he all but tackled her back down into the sofa cushions, tongue in her mouth, just kissing the air out of her for a long moment as though he couldn't do anything else.  When he pulled back, it almost sounded like he was the one out of breath, as though he'd had the wind half knocked out of him.     
  
    He sat most of the way up and worked on his own buttons for a minute, so many of them with all the layers, and she wanted to help but he was undoing them so fast she was afraid she'd get in the way.  He got the vest undone but the shirt underneath it lost about half of it's buttons before he was shrugging out of the whole mess.  And if she'd ever let herself imagine something like this, she would have thought that she'd be focused on his chest, the muscles she'd felt earlier revealed to be covered in creamy, golden-dusted skin.  But all she could see were buttons, his haste, his little noise of frustration that he couldn't just have the whole mess off right away.  For her.  For    
_her._

    She couldn't get out of her own jacket fast enough, and toeing off her shoes and socks meant kind of half wrapping her legs around the Pr-- Rufus, but he didn't seem to mind at all, and she had the sudden, totally mundane thought that she hoped that her socks weren't dirty, which was really stupid and she should probably worry more about her underwear because he was about to be seeing that more than her socks.  And maybe she would have worried more about something, anything at all, but he was back on top of her, skin to skin, arms warm around her, and she understood his sudden haste all too well.  The bra was too much, the rest of their clothes were too much.  He pressed down against her, insistently, cock hard and hot against her even through four layers too many, and she had to break the kiss, had to throw back her head and moan, had to press back against him, not caring at this point in the slightest if she seemed overeager.  

    She didn't even really know how they got their pants off after that.  There were more kisses, heated, bordering on messy, and general fumbling and she was a Turk, dammit, and he was the President and they both really ought to have a little more dignity than to be unbuckling belts and pants with fumbling, too clumsy fingers.  But they got them off and that was all that mattered and then it was just skin and Rufus moaning into her neck, which was probably the sexiest thing she'd ever heard, and...

    And Rufus propping himself up on one arm above her and chuckling a little not-chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at her.  If she didn't know better, she'd say he looked embarrassed,

    "Ah... I didn't expect this to happen when I... are you... is this alright, like this...?" She was too shocked by the hesitation in his voice, the knowledge that he didn't plan this all along, that the great Rufus Shinra couldn't put words to something.  It took her a minute to figure out what he was saying, a moment after that to flush (silly, she was already naked under him, but she couldn't help it) and find her own voice, 

    "I'm... safe..." it seemed the easiest way to sum it all up.  And she'd be insulted by him laughing at that, except that he was laughing and then that was at the top of the list for the sexiest thing she'd ever heard, before it got even better,

    "Elena... you're not ever    
_safe_   
," the words were ambiguous, but the tone made it clear that it was other people that weren't safe from her, and she was already sucking her breath in at the rush of pleasure that brought when he thrust into her.

    She'd feel bad about making a noise like that, but he made the same one.

    He found her lips again, and for all their earlier haste, he was going slow now, swallowing her little noises and voicing his own into her mouth, one hand on her hip and the other tangled behind her head.  Her hands wandered his back, but most of her attention was focused lower, where they were joined together, him moving inside of her and it was overwhelming like this, too much, too slow, but she wanted to draw it out at the same time, and yet...

    "Rufus, please... faster..." she could hear a hint of a whine in her voice, but he didn't seem to mind, "...too much..."  He chuckled again, purring against her shoulder,

    "I thought you'd never ask," and she'd laugh because he hadn't been in her that long, but she could literally feel his self-control unravel a bit as he sat up just slightly and picked up the pace.  She shuddered, brought unexpectedly close just by the knowledge that he'd been holding himself back for her-- that she could bring him to a point where he needed to hold himself back at all.     
  
    She wanted to see him not hold back at all.  

    For now, though, she was just overwhelmed by all of it-- so unexpected and so unexpectedly amazing and he felt so good pressed against her and into her and it had been such a long time since she'd had anything there that wasn't battery operated and this was going to be over far, far too fast, but she couldn't really help it.  She couldn't really do anything but grab his hips and half push, half pull herself up against him, trying to match his pace, get him just that little bit deeper, his name falling from her mouth in a litany now, until...

    "Shit," she heard him say, surprised, half-panicked, distantly, as she felt her muscles tighten around him, "Shit... Elena...   
_god_   
..." and then he was shuddering too, and she wished she could have seen, because she bet it was beautiful.  But she was too busy still riding out her own climax to open her eyes, to do anything other than shake underneath him.  His weight on her was surprisingly pleasant, warm, comforting as their breathing both slowed.

    "Mine," he said again after a moment, mouthing a kiss on her shoulder, "My Turk," and it wasn't the most romantic thing to say to a girl, but she wasn't just a girl and she felt new heat bloom inside her already at his acknowledgement of that.  Not just a girl.  Not just a pretty face.  His bodyguard and his confidant, and his hands when he couldn't get his hands dirty.  His gun.  His body in the darkness when he had to walk in the light.

    His Turk.  She smiled,

    "Since the day I signed on," she said, and he laughed at that, as she knew he would, and sat up.  Too soon, but to her surprise, he tugged her up with him,

    "Thank you, Elena," he said, softly, his hand on her face.  She shook her head, but accepted,

    "You're welcome."

    "Now that you've shared my... couch..." he said, with a look of distaste at the offending piece of furniture, "perhaps you'd like to join me in bed?" the President was back, suave and entirely too put-together, but that was alright.  She'd seen underneath, and if he was going to be half-President, half-just-Rufus, well, then she supposed she got to be a little more Turk.   
  
    "Make me," her tone was serious, but she knew he could see the teasing in her eyes.  He looked surprised for a moment and then grinned, and lunged.


End file.
